Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Barbarians and Elves Part 11

Part 11

The Mad Elve

We walked up the wide steps while
flowers cascaded overhead filling the air with heavenly scent, that couldn’t
quite cover the smell of decay that was bone deep in the city. I didn’t mind
the decay; it was appropriate. It matched my hat.

Inside I didn’t pause at the door
to gaze in awe at the beautiful scene that must have stunned the Barbarian . I
glanced over at him, but he looked back dully, the same flat expression on his
face. I looked back at the pink colored room where the very air was tinged in
pink. The ladies, all equally beautiful motion, perfection in the arms of the
immaculately dressed men moved in perfect time with the music, everything the
precise rhythm of Head Precept’s heart beat.

The musicians took up the space to
the left of the Precept's dais. I edged along the curved, pink wall in their
direction instead of walking through the dancers. The words of the gardener
came back to me, the warning about the fruits of my course of action. The
Barbarian was the enemy, but he was also my guest.

A couple swayed near me and the
male, the moss wearing Elve hissed at the sight of the Viceroy. When I stopped
suddenly the Barbarian stepped on the back of my Great Aunt's dress forcing me
to lose my balance as too much weight fell on my recently wounded ankle.

I heard the rip of my hem as the Barbarian
gripped my waist, keeping me from falling on my face at the feet of the hissing
Elve, a distant cousin who'd always expressed his disdain for my family's
political views.

The rough hands pulled me upright
while he stepped to my side in a classic clas-de-bough, turning me away from
the offensive couple and into the dizzy whirling of the dance. He kept his hand
on my waist as we moved until he moved to the more traditional quartre-fore
position in front of me. His grace in the dance was surprising for someone who
ripped people's dresses.

“What are you doing?” I asked, too
loudly, but I was too surprised to think of manners.

“Dancing.” He spun me under his
arm in a rush that had me stumbling towards him when I came out of it until my
hands were resting on his shoulders. I meant to push against him, but his hands
were promptly on my waist in a firm grasp that made me think I wasn’t going
anywhere. Barbarians were so firm once they had you in their grip.

“You said you weren’t interested
in dancing.”

“I’d rather dance with the shroud
than with one of those creatures. Those teeth are positively frightening.”

I sniffed, and leaned away from
him, but he only used my position as all the better for spinning me around dizzyingly,
no doubt causing quite a sight with the flapping of my veil.

“I believe I mentioned that I
don’t participate in the dancing.”

“I cannot believe that after your
display on the trip. If you do not dance, I’m sure that’s simply for lack of
partners. If I’m willing to humor myself, I don’t see why you shouldn’t show
your gratitude,” he said with an aloof nod that had my mouth dropping open.

I tripped over his foot, sending a
twinge through my ankle. I was glad to see the smile flicker. “I do beg your
pardon sir. I’m not accustomed to being humored.”

“Excuse me,” the gardener’s voice
broke in. “Head Precept would like you to introduce the viceroy to the court.”

I looked up at the fierce
and furious Elve and felt a slight tightening of the Barbarians arms around me
before he withdrew and nodded with polite boredom. I should have wondered what
happened to him, but other than my still painful ankle, I'd forgotten
everything in the dance.

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About Me

I write novels about things I wish other people would write about so I could read them with the relatively small effort reading takes compared to writing. I love hats. I hate binary systems. I always meant to be a librarian but accidentally became a painter instead. My husband is the only male I've ever met who is more intelligent than I am. I suppose that's why he married me.